


Hallowed Ground

by lilymae92



Series: The Pompatus of Love [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:19:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilymae92/pseuds/lilymae92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever said that growing up was easy... Sometimes it's hard work, and sometimes it's heartbreaking. Everyone has a story to tell...</p><p>Peter's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallowed Ground

The crisp smell of weathered wood filled the air, heat permeating through the thin walls of the mobile home. It was a cruel and unforgiving summer, and not even the open windows and rotating fans helped bring relief. The vinyl cushions stuck to Peter’s legs and back as he moved to sit up properly, body drenched in sweat. His plump cheeks were flushed red, lips curled into a frown.

It was always so much hotter when his dads were cooking, the stove putting off a lot more heat than it really needed to. He wouldn’t complain though… Complaining wouldn’t fix things. Never did. That was one of the first things he had learned growing up. Don’t complain, don’t fuss. Just be thankful for what you have. Like a roof over his head. At least he didn’t have to suffer the heat in the blazing sun.

Greg stuck his head in from the room over, smiling soft at his young boy, “Hey, Pete… Ready for dinner? I know it’s sort of early, but your pa-pa has to go to work soon. Figured we could all eat together before he left.”

Peter forced a small smile, moving to get up as he nodded, “Yeah, dad… I’ll be in there in a minute.” The blond man nodded and ducked back into the small kitchen, setting up the table.

The young boy’s movements were slower than most children his age, but he couldn’t help it. There wasn’t much to do where he lived, other than listen to the radio and watch the tele. The kids at school weren’t nice to him, and when summer came around, he was either ignored or bullied on the playground. So, he found it safer to just keep home.

In consequence, he found himself with a bit more pudge than the average child, having to work around it. Sure, it wasn’t fun, but it was the price he paid to keep happy. Besides, muggle school was only going to last for another year. It wouldn’t kill him.

Michael watched the boy from where he sat at the table, dressed in his work uniform. He worked with the local construction company, and spent most of his nights away, and the majority of his days in bed. He was Peter’s biological father, and even though the boy looked nothing like him, they acted just like one another. The only thing passed from father to son had been his deep blue eyes.

He gave his son a weary smile, muttering, “Have you done all of your summer reading, yet?” His eyes crinkled lightly at the edges, his sun-worn skin shifting, “I was thinking that if you had, we could do something fun on my next night off. Maybe go to the fair?” Get the kid out of the house, at least…

Peter lit up at the mention of the fair, sitting across from both of his fathers and the food, “Really? I mean, yeah… Yeah, I’ve done all of my reading. Did my reports, too.” The fair!

Greg chuckled and exchanged a look with his partner, muttering, “Don’t you have off next Tuesday?” The other man nodded and started to serve their meal, a nice country stew. Nice enough, at least… It was all they had in the house.

The smell of the meat and gravy filled the house, mingling with the musty scent of the moth-eaten curtains and worn carpet. It was a relaxing aroma, something that reminded Peter of his mum; reminded him of her hugs, and kisses, and bedtime stories. Every now and then he would be hit with a strong pang of sadness at the remembrance of her, and it always hit him at the worst times. As his fathers continued their light conversation, Peter slowly stopped eating, his smile fading away into a slight frown. He wasn’t hungry anymore… and not even the thought of going to the fair made him happy.

Greg noticed, watching Peter carefully and looking to Michael, hoping the man would say something. Taking in a deep breath, Mike spoke up, trying to keep his gruff voice soft, “What’s the matter, Peter?”

The boy shook his head, staring at his food and furrowing his brows, “Why did mum have to leave?”

It was a question that was addressed frequently in the household, and one that was frequently skimmed over.

Mike swallowed hard, sliding a hand up to his light brown hair and ruffling it slowly as he hid his face, “Peter… I’ve told you, before. She got really sick, and needed to go away.” Looking to the boy fully now, a sigh of exasperation passing from his lips, “And when she went away, she didn’t want to come back.”

Peter didn’t fully understand, setting down his fork and pouting a bit, “Why doesn’t she want to come back though? Doesn’t she love me?”

Greg slid a hand to his partner’s back, rubbing it soothingly to try and keep him calm. The man relaxed at the touch, voice softer as he looked back to his food, “She loves you a lot, Peter. She just doesn’t love me.”

And with that, the conversation was over. Peter knew better than to press his pa-pa for more information, especially when he was getting ready to go to work.

The meal went on in silence, the room slowly starting to cool down with the setting of the sun. Michael kissed Peter on the forehead, and Greg on the lips, speaking muffled goodbyes as he turned to leave. The door swung shut behind him loudly, causing some of the china in the cabinets to rattle. It was something Peter was used to; one of those little things that made their humble house their home.

Greg nudged the boy with a smile as he passed, starting for the sink, “How about you help me wash up these dishes? Then, when you’re ready for bed, we can watch some tele.” Peter couldn’t help but smile softly at that, moving to help pass the dirty dishes to the man. It was nice to have him around… He was nice, and liked to do things with him.

They washed any dirty dish they could find from around the house by hand, drying them off and putting them away. Although it wasn’t as fast and easy as it was with his pa-pa, who could use his wand, it gave them something to do.

Peter was sent to go get ready for bed, which meant for him a cold shower and a pair of holey pajama bottoms. That was okay with him, though. He was used to it. And when he dried off and hopped into his clean pajamas, he tore his blanket from his bed to wrap up in.

Spinning around to make sure he was as tucked in to it as possible, he grinned, hopping down the narrow hallway and into the living room, “Dad! Dad! I’m a burrito!” He nearly tripped once or twice, but somehow successfully made it to the couch, laughing up a storm.

His father chuckled, moving to tickle the boy through the blankets, “Burrito? I guess I’m going to have to EAT YOU UP!”

They both laughed and giggled for a while, Peter squirming around as Greg found playful ways to tickle him. He never had this with his dad… His dad always had work, or sleep, or rest to attend to. Greg didn’t have to do any of that. He got to stay at home with Peter, and help with the chores, and Peter really liked that.

He liked having a friend.


End file.
